


Oh Captain, My Captain

by aralias



Category: Blake's 7
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blake's Incredible Sexiness, Episode: s02e04 Horizon, Episode: s02e5 Pressure Point, F/M, Gay sex saves Gan, M/M, Sex Pollen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-07
Updated: 2014-01-07
Packaged: 2018-01-07 19:38:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1123619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aralias/pseuds/aralias
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blake does not consider himself an unattractive man, but when all the members of his crew proposition him on the same day he knows something weird is happening.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Oh Captain, My Captain

**Author's Note:**

> This is a silly one. 
> 
> Also, and not unrelatedly - as Elviaprose correctly observed upon reading the beginning, this fic is most definitely influenced by Predatrix's ['Automatic Reactions'](http://helenpatrick.wordpress.com/zines/tales-from-space-city-1/automatic-reactions-by-predatrix/) and ['Groundhog Lay'.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/933378)

In fact, both Blake and Avon had gone down to Hophus and both of them had tramped through the crocus field. But only Avon had tripped over a tree root and fallen into a large muddy puddle. When the two of them teleported back onto the Liberator, Blake was clean and trying not to grin. Avon, on the other hand, was caked in dark-brown mud from his toes to his collar bone and scowling. There was more mud in his hair and he stalked off to his cabin without so much as a personal glare at Cally, who was sitting behind the teleport desk and also grinning. 

Rather than undertaking the disagreeable business of removing his mud-stained clothing and undoubtedly dirtying his cabin in the process, Avon got into the shower fully dressed and turned the water on. He shut his eyes as the water sluiced down his leather tunic and tried not to think about whether it would have been a good idea to tug Blake into the puddle as well. They could have shared this shower... 

Or more likely Blake would have been angry that Avon was being frivolous and endangering their recon mission, even though by that point it was already clear that the mission had failed. Avon groaned slightly as he thought of how Blake’s eyes flashed when he was angry, and twisted the shower temperature down to cold. That was better, he thought as he shivered and began stripping off his clothes.

The pollen that had adhered to his boots on Hophus was washed harmlessly down the drain without ever coming into contact with his skin. 

Meanwhile, somewhere down the hall in his own cabin, Blake was smiling at the memory of how adorable Avon had looked covered in mud – ridiculously dirty, but still carrying himself like an exiled prince. Blake had made the mistake of laughing and Avon had looked daggers at him, refusing his offer of a hand up. 

The silver tunic and thigh-highs were probably ruined, Blake reflected as he tugged off his boot. He sighed. That was a shame.

Or possibly for the best. Since Horizon, Avon in that outfit had featured prominently in several of the fantasies Blake tried not to have. Avon knocking the axe out of his hands and pushing him up against the cave wall; Avon arriving significantly earlier and rescuing them properly so that Blake could be properly grateful; Avon looming over him on the flight deck. Well, that last one had actually happened, so perhaps that was all right, although in the fantasy version Avon leant down and pressed kisses into Blake’s exposed neck. Since that would never happen, since _none_ of it would ever happen, it was probably for the best that the silver tunic was ruined. Though Avon would probably be able to find something else just as provocative within the Liberator’s wardrobe room.

Blake smiled to himself ruefully and threw the boot over into the corner of the room. The pollen that had adhered to his boots on Hophus, now transferred from boot to hand, mingled with his body chemistry, and then detached as he pulled off the rest of his clothing. The small grains of pollen rose in a draft of warm air, swirled through the ventilation hatch in Blake’s cabin and were whisked off into the ventilation shaft where they could easily be dispersed around the rest of the ship...

*

Blake returned to the flight deck a few hours later, dressed in a fresh, white shirt and soft, brown trousers. Jenna was the only one there, and she smiled up at him as he approached. 

“I assume we still haven’t found our home away from home.”

“No,” Blake said. “I think the Federation base that Orac didn’t tell us about makes Hophus _slightly_ unsuitable as a rebel strong hold, don’t you?” He exchanged a grin with Jenna and then looked back at the sensor screens, which were showing all clear. Next to him Jenna sneezed and Blake glanced up at her again. “Bless you.

"Still,” he admitted as he left the pilot’s position and crossed down to the sofa,” it’s useful to know it’s there. Who knows? Perhaps one day we can go back and find out what they were so interested in.”

“I’m free now,” Jenna said, and Blake laughed.

“No, no,” he said. “I think we need to finish what we’ve started. Find a base, and then move on- the, ah, rest of the Federation.” 

He’d been about to say Central Control, which would have been a very bad idea. It had been only weeks since he’d first made contact with the leader of a resistance cell on Earth, but already they’d formulated a plan for how to take Control. Unfortunately, Blake had decided that quite a crucial part of his part of the plan was that none of the rest of his crew learn about it before they were in Earth’s orbit. He was confident they would all go along with it, if they didn’t have time to get scared. In Vila's case that could be as little as five minutes, so Blake had resolved to keep the whole plan secret until they were already in Earth's orbit. The pressure of being found out was adding to the pressure of the imminent attack and that was making _him_ slightly jittery, but there was nothing to be done about that.

“Blake,” Jenna said, casually, “how gay are you, exactly?”

“Hm?” Blake said. He hadn’t noticed her coming to sit next to him on the sofa and glanced back at her in surprise at hearing her voice so close. “Oh, I don’t know,” he said, turning back to the display he’d been looking at “Fairly. Does it matter?”

“Possibly,” Jenna said warmly. “Are you, for example, so gay you find women’s bodies actively repellent, or would you be willing to consider a reconnaissance mission into unknown territory?”

 _“What?”_ Blake said, turning to her. 

“I’m free now,” Jenna told him.

“Now, _come on,_ Jenna,” Blake said with a laugh, but it was quickly apparent he’d misjudged the situation as Jenna slid onto his lap and pressed her lips against his. Blake wasn’t so gay that he found the sensation repugnant, but neither did he find the taste of Jenna’s lipstick, the smell of her perfume, or the curvy shape of her body arousing. He kissed her back in a friendly way, blocking her tongue’s attempts to get into his mouth, and then broke away. “I’m sorry. It just isn’t going to work-”

“I’m sure I could make it work,” Jenna said with a heady, reckless grin that for a moment he did find very attractive, and then her hand closed around his cock. 

_“Jenna!”_ Blake protested and tried to get to his feet. 

“Please, Blake-” Jenna said breathlessly, and pressed a kiss into his neck. _“Please,”_ another kiss just below the jaw where he’d imagined Avon would kiss him, “I’ll do anything,” a weak kiss to his chin, “you want-” 

“I want you to stop,” Blake said, laughing slightly at how absurd the situation was, and pushing her off his lap. “Honestly, Jenna. What is going on?”

“I don’t know,” Jenna said, falling back onto the sofa as he stood. She breathed in deeply, making her breasts rise and fall in what was probably an attractive manner. “Almost as soon as you walked onto the flight deck, I’ve had this urge to jump you. Touching you just made it worse.” She cracked an eye open, presumably to check he was still there. “What if I sucked you off and you imagined I was someone else?”

 _“No,”_ Blake said horrified. Beautiful, clever, talented Jenna deserved better than that. To be honest, everyone deserved better than that, and it sickened him to think someone he cared about might make that offer and be taken up on it. “You must have some sort of fever,” he decided, turning away as she began to unzip her jump suit. She sneezed again and Blake seized on this. “There. What did I tell you? It’s making you hallucinate. I’ll find Cally and get her to come and have a look at you. All right?” He turned and found that Jenna had removed the top half of her outfit. Her bra was black and lacy. Jenna licked her lips and Blake turned away again quickly. “All right,” he said. “I’ll get Cally. Stay there.”

 _“Blake,”_ Jenna called after him piteously as he hurried out of the room. 

Out in the corridor he almost collided with Gan, who smiled warmly at him. “Blake, could I have a word with you?”

“Not now, Gan,” Blake said, trying to push past him. But it was difficult to push past Gan when he didn’t want to be pushed past.

“Please,” Gan said. “It’s important. I’d really appreciate it.”

Blake eyed him warily. Gan never made a fuss except about things that Blake actually agreed with, but didn’t want to think about. He considered the possibility that Gan had discovered his plans regarding Control and was now going to point out some of the problems that Blake had discarded as unimportant, but Gan looked awkward, rather than upset. Well, whatever it was, it could wait. 

“Now, isn’t a good time,” Blake told him. “Jenna’s sick. I’m on my way to fetch Cally to look after her.”

“I don’t mind walking with you,” Gan said. 

“Fine,” Blake said. “But talk quickly.” He set off in the direction of Cally’s cabin, expecting Gan to launch into whatever he was going to say, but Gan was silent. Blake suddenly felt embarrassed for telling him to shut up, exhaled irritably and rubbed his face with both hands. “All right, I’m sorry. What is it?”

“It’s difficult to know where to begin,” Gan said awkwardly.

_“Gan-”_

“You’re gay, aren’t you, Blake?”

Blake thought of Jenna’s bra and the creamy white flesh underneath it. “ _Yes,_ I’m afraid I am” he said, wondering how this could possibly be important. Gan was from a backwater planet that might have discouraged homosexuality, but he didn’t seem to be the kind of man to tell others what to do with their lives or sexual organs. Blake thought he might once have heard Gan mention his own personal preference for sex within the confines of marriage, but he hadn’t condemned Jenna’s tales of spaceport bed swapping. “Is that a problem?” he asked, just in case.

“No, no,” Gan said with a smile. “I was just... wondering when you first realised...” he sneezed, “Sorry, about that. When you realised that you were. Gay, I mean.”

Blake exhaled. “I don’t know,” he said, coming to a stop. “In my teens, possibly.” He chuckled slightly as the memory crystallised. “I had a rather lovely mathematics teacher, who used to get very cross when I didn’t do my homework.”

“I don’t mean to pry,” Gan said. “I’m only asking because- well, I seem to have developed some similar feelings recently.”

“Ah,” Blake said, sensing trouble. He bit nervously at one of his fingernails. “And who are they-?”

“You,” Gan said.

“Ah,” Blake said again. He put a hand on Gan’s shoulder and squeezed it in what he hoped was a platonic, friendly fashion. “Well, Gan. I’m very-” He meant to say ‘flattered, _but-_ ’, but Gan leant down and kissed him, very gently like he was a thing that might easily be broken with too much force. Tentatively, his hands brushed over Blake’s face and then down to his waist. 

It wasn’t bad, actually. Blake didn’t think of himself as someone who wanted to be protected. He wanted to be rescued by Avon more because of what it said about Avon’s character than because he wanted to be looked after, but it was nice and frankly unusual to be held and caressed by a larger man. And Gan was probably a very sensible person for him to get involved with – he was steady where Blake was volatile, he was supportive except when he objected on rational, moral grounds. But Blake felt nothing really for him apart from fondness, and if he was going to sleep with someone who didn’t set his pulse racing he might as well go back to Jenna on the flight deck. At least they could talk about shared interests afterwards. 

He pushed Gan’s fingers away from his belt buckle, thinking with undoubtedly misplaced loyalty of Avon, who only ever objected to Blake’s plans because he was a contrary bastard or because he didn’t want to get killed. Avon, who had risked his life countless times to save them all, who made Blake laugh and furiously angry and completed his sentences for him. Avon, who looked amazing in tight trousers and thigh-high boots, but who was not a sensible person for Blake to want to be involved with, if for no other reason than because Avon hated him. 

_Mmm,_ Blake thought headily, _hate sex,_ and the thought of how much more he’d prefer even that to the soft and gentle treatment he was receiving from Gan made up his mind for him. Avon’s unavailability was not really a good reason to sleep with someone else he didn’t really want, just because they’d offered. 

“I’m _really_ flattered,” Blake told Gan, who was pressing kisses along his cheekbone and still trying to get into his trousers. 

“That’s very nice of you,” Gan said. “But really I should be flattered that you’d even-”

Blake made a face. _“But,_ ” he said firmly, trying to push Gan away and getting nowhere again, “I’m really not interested. And frankly I’m astonished that you are. You realise we’re not married-”

“I don’t care,” Gan said, pushing his hand into Blake’s shirt and down over his shoulder. “I just – I feel like I need you. I need you even more now I’ve touched you.”

“Sorry?” Blake said, as the familiar phrase chimed in his brain. “What did you say?”

“I need you, Blake,” Gan said into his hair. 

“Not that bit,” Blake said, with a sigh, but he’d already decided something was as wrong with Gan as it had been with Jenna and that he was unlikely to get much sense out of either of them until it was fixed. “Tell you what,” he said, “I’ll just go and get Cally and send her to Jenna. Then I’ll come and find you in your cabin. We don’t want to have sex in the corridor, do we?”

“No,” Gan said, seeming to remember himself. He pulled his hand out of Blake’s shirt, raised it to his face again and brushed a thumb over Blake’s cheek. “But you will come back?”

“Yes,” Blake lied. “Of course. I just need to go and get help for Jenna...” 

He backed away down the corridor, turned a corner and then started running. When he was two corridors away, he stopped to think. 

Blake did not think of himself as an unattractive man, and he acknowledged that, in the past, impressionable young people had joined up to the Freedom Party because they were drawn by his charisma, his voice and (as Avon might have told him if he had asked) the attractive way his eyes blazed when he was passionate about something. It was not impossible that two members of his crew would, on the same day, proposition him, particularly since Jenna had already done so a few months ago and been gently rebuffed. But it was unlikely. 

Two sets of fingers insinuated themselves over his shoulders and started rubbing in soothing circles. Blake stiffened as Vila’s voice said, “Hard day?” 

“You could say that,” Blake said carefully. 

“Let me make it better,” Vila said, and bit down gently on the edge of Blake’s ear. 

Blake pulled away with what was probably an undignified yelp. “You’re _straight,”_ he said, pointing accusingly at Vila.

“Not really,” Vila said. “I’ll sleep with anyone as long as they’re soft, stunningly beautiful, athletic and willing to protect me in a fight.”

“Now, _think,_ Vila,” Blake said crossly, “does _any_ of that apply to me?”

Vila looked hurt. “You wouldn’t protect me?” he asked. His eyes were very large and sad, and Blake felt guilty even though Vila was just putting it on and, worse, was just putting it on because of some weird virus.

“Yes, all right,” Blake said. _“Possibly._ But that’s not really the basis of a long-lasting relationship, is it?”

“Who said relationship?” Vila asked innocently. “I was just suggesting sex. And I’ll make an exception for you, Blake, on the other grounds, because I like you, and you’re very handsome.”

 _“Funny,”_ Blake said, as Vila sneezed, “that you didn’t notice before today.”

“Yes, it is,” Vila said, face falling as that thought tried to break through whatever chemical reaction was going on in his brain. Blake thought for a moment that it might have worked, and then Vila leered at him. “But don’t worry. We can make up for lost time.” 

He darted forwards and Blake stepped to one side so that Vila missed him and crashed instead into the wall. 

As Vila groaned, Blake shook his head and jogged away down the corridor. Two members of the crew was an unlikely coincidence – three meant that something was definitely going on. So, he would have to go back to the flight deck and consult Zen. Hopefully Jenna had found her own way to the medical unit or found Cally-

No, Jenna hadn’t found Cally. Because Cally was standing right in front of him now without any of her clothes on, bathed in the warm glow of light from her open cabin door.

“Blake,” she said matter-of-factly, “I’m sorry, but I think we need to talk about your plans for Earth. Last night I intercepted a message from a General Kasabi-”

“Some,” Blake said, “other... time, Cally. Sorry.” He edged past her, trying not to look anywhere below her chin. He could feel himself flushing the same rose colour as her nipples.

“Then you don’t want to know what she said?” Cally asked. “I thought we could discuss it over intercourse.”

“Tempting,” Blake said as he stared hard at the corridor ceiling. “But no, thank you.” 

Another few steps and he was out of the circle of light around her cabin. Then he broke into another jog. 

He’d worked his way through most of the ship by now and was able to enter the flight deck by the other entrance at the top of the stairs. Nobody seemed to be on watch, which would usually have made Blake quite angry, but today it was a blessed relief. He didn’t think he could have borne it if Jenna had still been here. Or if Avon had been here – dark eyed and smirking, slowly removing his clothes just like Jenna had done. Now Blake knew there was something wrong with everyone, he knew it would be completely unacceptable for him to let Avon grope him, or kiss him, or – whatever it was Avon would want to do to him if they ran into each other. 

Blake shivered slightly, and caught himself regretting the fact that Avon hadn’t finished his shower earlier and been on the flight deck an hour ago instead of Jenna. Without context, there would have been no reason to suspect Avon’s motivations were anything other than genuine. He could have had sex with an Avon who was desperate for him, without knowing how wrong and chemically induced it was. They would have both been embarrassed by it later, but by then the thing would have happened. 

He shut his eyes and willed that prospect away like all his other inappropriate fantasies. Obviously the thought was beneath him. It was better for everyone that it hadn’t happened like that. He didn’t want to have Avon if Avon didn’t want to be taken. Or at least – he didn’t want to want that. How ridiculous and frustrating that he was having to debate this with himself when it hadn’t even happened. Hopefully he could fix this thing, whatever it was, without even coming into contact with Avon. 

He pulled himself together and descended the rest of the staircase.

 _“Zen,”_ he hissed and the white and gold lights flickered across the screen in response to his voice. “What the hell has happened to my crew?”

“The rest of the crew are under the influence of a Hophian pollen,” Zen intoned. “This pollen was carried back to the ship by Roj Blake and was activated upon contact with his pheromones. Symptoms of the condition include a strong desire to mate with the activating human, in this case Roj Blake, sneezing, irritation to the eyes, sweating, headaches-”

“Yes, all right,” Blake snapped. “How do I counter the effects?”

“The effects will cease following successful intercourse with the activating human.”

“That is not an acceptable solution,” Blake told the computer firmly. “There must be another way. Some drug available on the planet.”

Zen’s lights flickered thoughtfully. “An antihistamine and anaphrodisiac can be synthesised by the one called Orac in collaboration with the medical units aboard this starship.”

 _“Thank you,”_ Blake said irritably. He glanced around, hoping to see Orac waiting helpfully on the table in front of the sofa, but he was not there. “And where is Orac?”

“The one called Orac is currently in cabin thirty two.”

“Which _is_?” Blake demanded. He rubbed his hands over his face and rephrased for the computer. “Who sleeps in that cabin, Zen?” but he already knew the answer. Very few people liked to take Orac back to their rooms for private research. As far as he knew only two people did it on a regular basis. One of them was Blake himself, and he knew Orac wasn’t in his cabin. 

“Cabin thirty two,” Zen said, “is generally occupied by-”

“ _-Kerr Avon,_ ” Blake finished in time with Zen. “Wonderful.” He paced away from Zen, considered his options, which were few, and then paced back. “Is Avon there now?”

“Negative,” Zen said. “Kerr Avon is in subcontrol room one. He has been there for the last twenty four minutes.”

“First piece of good news I’ve had all day,” Blake muttered. “And where are the others? I don’t want to run into them on the way there.”

“Olag Gan is in cabin twenty nine, Jenna Stannis is in the medical bay, Vila Restal has just entered the flight deck-”

“I thought I’d find you here,” Vila’s voice said, low and seductive, from behind him. Vila’s hand curled around his waist. Blake noted briefly that Vila smelled like expensive cologne – specifically, Avon’s expensive cologne – and that he was naked and probably fully erect. Then he pulled himself from Vila’s arms and fled for the stairs. 

He saw Cally pass like a pale ghost and ducked into a doorway to avoid her. Then Jenna nearly caught him as he passed the medical bay, but Blake didn’t stop to offer her an explanation. He could explain later – _if_ they survived this.

He reached Avon’s door and pressed his hand to the activation control. It slid open to reveal a mercifully empty room. Nobody on the ship bothered to lock their doors since Vila could and would break through any locked door, just for the fun of it. Generally, it was customary not to just barge into someone’s room unannounced and not to do it when they weren’t around, but this was an emergency and Blake excused his terrible behaviour as being in the service of avoiding some even worse behaviour. 

Orac was sitting on Avon’s desk on top of a pile of plans for what appeared to be some sort of shield function for the ship. Blake picked up the box and then realised the activation key was missing. 

“Please let it be on the desk,” he murmured desperately. 

He put Orac down onto Avon’s chair and began hunting through the papers. The key was not there, and Blake grimaced and pulled open the top drawer of Avon’s desk. “Sorry, Avon,” he muttered as he fished out a framed photograph of a pale woman with a heart-shaped face, and then one of Blake himself, which Avon undoubtedly used for target practise. Underneath the two pictures was a nest of pencils and pens, two datapads, five condoms in wrappers, and a bottle of what was obviously lubricant. No activation key. 

Blake shut the drawer again hurriedly, whispering apologies to a man who wasn’t there, and pulled open the next drawer down. It contained several sex toys of various sizes. Blake gaped and shut the drawer. 

The door behind him opened before he could open the bottom drawer, and Avon walked in. He was wearing dark grey and his hair was still slightly damp from the shower. He raised an eyebrow and Blake realised he was not only in Avon’s room, uninvited, but that he also had his hand on the handle to Avon’s desk drawer. He let go of it hurriedly. 

“Orac’s key,” he said darkly, as though it were Avon’s fault he’d had to break in.

“Is in my jacket pocket,” Avon said. “Should I hand it over now, or have you acquired a taste for rifling through my belongings?” 

“Just give it to me,” Blake snapped, and Avon smiled thinly and pulled the key out of his pocket. He threw it towards Blake, who caught it and jammed it in place. Orac’s lights began blinking and his inner machinery whirred. Avon walked over to stand next to Blake, hands clasped behind his back. Blake leant against Orac’s casing and tried to ignore the scent of the cologne he’d smelt on Vila. It smelt better in combination with Avon’s leathers, or perhaps it just smelt better on Avon. 

“Orac,” Blake said firmly, “interface with Zen and tell me if Jenna is still in the medical bay.”

“Of all the trivial requests you have put to me in the past four months, this is perhaps the most trivial!” Orac protested. “I fail to see why you cannot ask Zen yourself, or even walk the requisite thirty six metres between this location and the medical bay and make the observation yourself.”

Blake grimaced in exasperation, and ignored Avon’s aggressively polite interest. “Is she there or not, Orac?” 

_“No,”_ Orac said, as though he hoped this was the answer Blake had hoped not to receive. “Now, if you would kindly let me return to my research-”

“Your research can wait,” Blake told him, “as can whatever Avon’s got you working on.” He could feel Avon’s eyes on him, but as yet no arms had crept around his waist or lips brushed against his hair. Blake pressed on and tried to ignore the feeling that Avon was waiting until his guard was down before springing and deliciously savaging him. “I’ve got another job for you.” With effort, he made his tone light and amused. “One you might _even_ think is worthy of your time.”

“Based on your previous requests, I find that most unlikely,” Orac said, “but since it seems I have no choice-” 

Blake removed the operating key and Orac’s voice fizzled away. He thought he felt Avon’s breath on the back of his neck, but when he turned around to face the other man Avon was still standing a polite two feet away. 

He hefted Orac awkwardly off the chair and into his arms. It felt ridiculously heavy. Avon had suggested he might be able to do something about that at some point – remove and replace Ensor’s bulky components with newer, lighter models – but apparently he hadn’t done that yet. 

“I’m taking Orac,” Blake told him. He was angry that the computer was still so heavy and that he was going to have to save everyone without any help, and still tense with the expectation that any minute now, while his hands were full, he was going to have to fight off the attentions of a man he’d be fantasising about for months.

“So I see,” Avon said. He looked down wearily at the mess Blake had made of his desk, picked up one of the plans and smoothed out one of the corners. His movements were purposefully casual, and Blake was even more convinced that it was some sort of ruse.

“And I’m _sorry,_ ” he said, in case this would help prevent the inevitable savaging, “but I’m not going to have sex with you.”

Avon twisted around to face him. He looked genuinely intrigued. “I... didn’t think that you were,” he said.

“ _Really,_ ” Blake said irritably, and Avon made a face. 

“ _Really,_ ” he said. 

There was an uncomfortable pause, and then Blake said, with realisation, “You’re not affected.” He felt massively relieved and massively disappointed at the same time, but fortunately there was still a problem to solve and he fixed on that. “Why are you not affected?”

“Not affected by what, Blake?” Avon said. “Your insanity?”

“No, no,” Blake said, glaring belatedly at Avon for being unhelpful. His arms were beginning to ache, so he put Orac down on the chair again. “The rest of the crew have been affected by some sort of alien pollen. Unfortunately,” this would be awkward and embarrassing, but there was nothing for it, “one of its principle side effects seems to be a particularly strong sexual desire for me in particular.”

“Ah, so that’s what it is,” Avon said absently. “I thought it was just the white shirt.”

“What?” Blake said.

Avon waved the question away. Then he began to smirk. “So, you mean, _Vila-_?”

“ _Yes,”_ Blake said, thinking about the way Vila’s naked erection had pressed into the small of his back and how he never wanted to discuss this with Avon. 

“And Jenna?”

“ _And_ Gan,” Blake said, forestalling Avon before he could say each of the crew’s names with increasing levels of delight. “ _And_ Cally. Yes.”

Avon’s eyebrows rose. “ _Gan?”_

“Good kisser,” Blake said and somehow felt like he’d scored a point when Avon’s mouth tightened.

“Well, I’m sorry to have missed out on that.”

“ _I_ won’t be sorry if it never happens again,” Blake said, lifting the computer again. “I just want this whole thing over with. Orac should be able to synthesize an antihistamine if we get him to the medical bay.” An idea struck him and he grinned. “And since you’re not affected, Avon, you can help me carry him.”

Avon looked at though he might be going to say something, but then he just sighed and took one of Orac’s carrying handles. “Lead on, then.”

Blake pressed the door release button and peered out into the corridor. It seemed deserted. As an afterthought, he slotted Orac’s key back into place. 

“Orac, is anyone in the medical bay now?”

“They are not,” Orac said. “And if _this_ is the job you were referring to earlier, I must say-”

“Yes, all right. That’s enough,” Blake said, removing the key again. He gestured to Avon with a nod of his head down the corridor. “Come on.”

The medical bay was very close to Avon’s chosen cabin and they almost made it without running into any of the crew. Jenna, now clad only in her underwear, caught sight of them just as they reached the door. Avon looked back with interest as she approached and Blake shoved him into the medical bay and jammed the door shut, muffling her wail of anguish. There was a thump from the other side of the door and then another as though Jenna was beating the door with her hands. 

“Oh, to be the hero of the revolution,” Avon’s voice drawled. “Beautiful, half-naked women are literally throwing themselves at you.”

“I’m _gay,_ ” Blake snapped, tugging Orac away from him and slamming it onto the table next to the medical computer. “Though, for the record,” he continued, as he flicked the button that would turn it on, “I like my potential partners to be in their right mind, whatever their gender.”

“What else do you-?” Avon began, and then he broke off and swung to face the wall. Blake looked up as Avon turned back, smirking again. “That must be difficult,” Avon said, as though his first attempt at a retort hadn’t failed spectacularly, “considering that you’re only attracted to revolutionary fanatics like yourself. Celibacy seems inevitable.”

“Yes, _thank_ you, Avon,” Blake said sarcastically, which seemed to make Avon feel better. He laughed slightly, as though at his own joke, and sauntered back over to the two computers to watch what Blake was doing. For some reason, he seemed to smell even better now. Blake put Orac’s key back in place and steadfastly ignored him. 

“Orac, I want you to create a drug that will _counter_ the effects of the pollen that Zen says is affecting the crew.”

“Is that all?” Orac asked. 

“Yes, that’s all.”

“I was correct,” Orac said. “This does not interest me.”

“Do it anyway.”

Orac sighed its machine sigh. “Since it is clear that you will not leave me in peace if I do not cooperate! Please insert five blank hypodermic needles into the medicomputer.”

Blake frowned. _“Five?”_

“I have not miscounted,” Orac said irritably. 

“One in case of emergencies, perhaps,” Avon suggested as he went to retrieve the empty syringes. 

Blake nodded as Orac continued, “The drug should be injected directly into a muscle. The effect should be almost instantaneous.” 

By this time, Avon had returned. Blake held out his hand for the syringes and Avon dumped them into his outstretched palm. As he did so, the tips of Avon’s fingers and the ball of his hand came briefly into contact with the opposing parts of Blake. Avon gasped slightly and pulled back, like he’d been burnt.

“Are you all right?” Blake asked as he slotted the syringes into the medicomp. 

“Fine,” Avon said from his new position, half way across the other side of the room. “I must have scratched myself on a needle.”

 _They’re in sealed packages,_ Blake thought as the tubes filled with liquid. _That was a weak defence, even for Avon._ He glanced back at Avon, who seemed to be having increasing difficulty breathing normally and had gone into a corner to do it, his supposedly injured hand clenching and unclenching at his side as he faced the wall. 

_Not affected?_ Blake thought bitterly. _I should have known._

“The drug is now ready,” Orac announced, cutting through the sound of Avon’s shuddering intakes of breath. “If you have no further need of me, I will return to my research.”

“Thank you for your time, Orac,” Blake said with faux magnanimity and pulled the key out of position. With another dark look over towards Avon, he pulled one of the syringes from the medicom, stripped it of its packaging, and pressed the door control button. Avon and his issues could wait. The anger and disappointment that Blake felt about the complete and total failure of his relationship with Avon could wait. For now, he needed to help the rest of his crew. 

Jenna was in his arms in a moment and this time Blake kissed her back. It was as viable a method of distracting her as any and Jenna seemed to be enjoying it. She had her hands in his hair and was making the same sort of small gasping noises as Avon had been making earlier. Her skin was really remarkably soft, Blake thought objectively as he stabbed the needle into her exposed upper arm and depressed the plunger.

The effect was, as Orac had promised, instant. Jenna stilled and drew back. She made a face and then covered her mouth with her hands. “Oh my god, Blake, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s all right,” Blake said gently. 

“I just threw myself at you,” Jenna said, horror-struck. “It was as though I couldn’t stop myself. I _wanted_ to stop-”

“Welcome back to reality,” Avon said smugly from behind them. 

Blake and Jenna turned to look at him, and then Blake looked back at Jenna again. Jenna rolled her eyes and Blake grimaced, and then both of them seemed to realise simultaneously that Jenna was in her underwear. She looked briefly awkward, but Blake must have looked far more awkward because she began laughing as he tugged off his shirt and handed it to her. 

“Thanks,” she said, smiling her most beautiful smile. The shirt looked good on her, as though she were a viz-star taking a break between filming. “So what _happened?”_

“It seems I brought back an alien pollen from Hophus,” Blake said, walking round to the medicom and withdrawing the remaining syringes. “It’s affected all the crew in the same way it affected you-”

“All the crew?” Jenna said. Her eyes flicked to Avon and then back to Blake, who shook his head minutely as he handed over three of the remaining four syringes. 

“Yes, even Gan,” he said, “even Cally, even Vila. Now, I know it’s going to be awkward, but I think it would be better for everyone if I _didn’t_ administer the cure. I’m sorry to ask you-”

“Blake, it’s fine. I really don’t mind,” Jenna said in a businesslike fashion. 

“You might once you see what Vila’s wearing.” 

Jenna looked intrigued, and Blake grinned. Behind them, Avon sneezed loudly and swore. Blake shut his eyes briefly to give him strength and heard the door shut behind Jenna. 

“Are you going to move out of the way?” Avon asked. “Or should I get used to the décor?”

Blake turned slowly to look at him. Avon’s eyes were bright and his grin was feral, as though to disguise his earlier weakness. His breathing had slowed, but it was still heavy enough that Blake could see his chest rising and falling. 

Blake held up the final syringe. Avon’s eyes flicked to it and then back to Blake’s face. They were still two meters apart and Avon didn’t cross them to take the syringe.

“Even I’m impressed,” Blake said lightly. 

Avon raised an eyebrow as though to say _‘Really? Why?’_ and Blake smiled thinly at him. “Congratulations,” he said, hearing the harsh, mocking note in his voice this time. “You must hate me very much in order to have fought the pollen so effectively. I would have said Vila was as straight as they come, but he was absolutely convinced he’d always been bisexual. Even the very best brainwashers in the business couldn’t convince Vila that he was a law-abiding citizen, yet you fought off the effects of a mind-controlling pollen that completely overwhelmed him. Well _done,_ Avon. Congratulations. As I say, I _am_ impressed.” 

He’d kept his tone mostly steady, but Blake could tell this speech had sounded disturbingly like a tantrum. His own breathing wasn’t exactly steady now, either, and he knew Avon would probably notice, and might guess the reason, but it was too late to pretend he didn’t care what Avon thought of him. 

“Are you going to give me the antidote?” Avon said rather than answer any of the accusations Blake had levelled at him. 

Blake sighed irritably. “Why _wouldn’t_ I?” 

“I can think of numerous reasons,” Avon said tightly. “You might find it easier to control-”

 _“What?”_ Blake said, and Avon said, fumbling the words slightly this time,

“Well, if not that, then-”

“How _dare_ you?” Blake demanded, latching onto anger because the horrible despair and disgust would otherwise overwhelm him. This time Avon was silent. “You think I would do something like that, after what the Federation did to me?” Blake asked him. “You think I would do that to _anyone?”_ He could almost hear his voice cracking and made it harsher, more rageful. “How _can_ you think that of me?” 

“You have no idea what I think of you,” Avon said quietly.

“No, I know exactly what you think of me, Avon,” Blake said. “Very little, apparently.” He threw the syringe to the floor and turned, smacking at the door button. 

_“Blake-”_ Avon called after him and the genuine note of distress in his voice made Blake turn back from the open door. Somehow this happened more quickly than Avon had expected because Avon collided with his bare chest. Avon’s hands clenched against Blake’s skin and his knees seemed to collapse under him as he gasped, his nails raking down past Blake’s nipples.

Blake caught him by the elbow to stop him falling, and then Avon’s hands were around his face and Avon dragged him down into a kiss. Instinctively Blake caught him around the waist and held him up and Avon made a moaning sound as though he were dying. 

It wasn’t real, but it might have been, and it was affecting Blake as though it were. He moaned slightly in response, blood rushing away from his brain to the other end of his body. Behind him, the door slid shut again. Avon pressed more kisses to Blake’s mouth and then moved across his cheek, up to his ear. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered desperately, his body pressed up against Blake’s chest in a long, soft slide of leather and suede. “I’m so sorry, Blake,” he said in between more ragged kisses. “I don’t think that.” 

It was probably possible to hit the door button behind him and escape, leaving Avon here alone. That was what he should do, Blake thought. He felt around behind his back for the button, found it, but did not press it. Avon moved back to Blake’s mouth, and his chin, and his eyelids, and the tip of his nose. “I don’t think that,” he said again, as though the idea Blake might believe he did was intensely painful to him. 

“You would,” Blake said, trying at least not to kiss Avon back, “ _if_ you were in your right mind.” Avon shook his head slowly, the curve of his lips rolling over Blake’s. One of Avon’s hands ran down Blake’s back and straight into his trousers, squeezing appreciatively around one of his buttocks. _“Avon-”_ Blake protested, yanking the hand out. “Stop, please-” He heard his voice crack slightly before Avon kissed him again. 

This time Blake felt himself give into it and Avon laughed slightly, breathlessly and uncertain, into his mouth.

“I don’t think I’ve been in my right mind since I met you,” he said in between kisses. Blake’s fingers clenched around his arms. One of those hands had been on the door-button earlier, hadn’t it? When had he moved it? He felt like he was drowning. It was like he was the one infected by the aphrodisiac. If Avon had just been kissing him, or just been telling him exactly what he wanted to hear, perhaps it would have been resistible. All his attention was focused on the areas where he and Avon were touching: lips, nose, neck, hands, arms, stomach just above the fastenings of his trousers. 

Then Avon pulled away. He unzipped the front of his own jacket and pulled one of his arms free. “It feels,” another kiss, “a lot like,” to Blake’s jaw this time, “going mad,” he said, pulling the other sleeve off and dropping the jacket on the floor. 

“I know the feeling,” Blake told him, laughing slightly as though this was a real conversation they were having, and Avon grinned. Freed from the jacket, he was able to wrap his arms around Blake’s waist and pull him back into another open-mouthed kiss. Avon’s tongue pressed into Blake’s mouth and then darted back to let Blake return the favour. Avon’s hands, Blake noted vaguely had slid back down into his trousers again, tugging his hips forward to press against Avon’s groin. 

Blake broke away from the kiss with a groan, and Avon tilted back his head, a clean indication for Blake to kiss his neck. “You make me doubt everything about myself, Blake,” he said as Blake obligingly pressed kisses against his throat. “I really don’t know myself anymore.” 

“I’m sorry,” Blake said quietly and kissed Avon’s chin, wondering how not-real this was. At least some of it was probably true. The chemically induced lust was distorting them, but these were probably Avon’s real feelings on some level. And so it was right that Blake was sorry, and he was.

Avon laughed once, bitterly. “Don’t be,” he said. He tugged his polo neck over his head and Blake helped him, rather than see Avon struggle with it. Avon’s head emerged, his hair adorably tousled, and he flung the shirt away with a snarl. “I don’t like myself much.” 

“Well, I-” Blake began, meaning to say that he liked Avon very much, no matter what Avon thought of him, but before he could finish Avon had caught Blake’s face between his hands again. The next kiss was bestowed with the same intensity with which Avon had thrown away his shirt. 

A large stretch of Avon’s skin was now bare and pressed up against Blake, the hair of his chest tickling slightly. Blake was almost breathless when Avon drew away, but Avon seemed to be unable to stop talking now he’d started.

“But I like you. Oh yes, I like you. I want not to want you, and I can’t- _stop_ wanting you.” His fingers were now stumbling over the fastenings of Blake’s trousers. That would be bad, Blake thought hazily. Avon would not forget having his hands on Blake’s cock. 

He pulled Avon’s hands away and placed them in the small of his back. Again, Avon pushed downwards, this time sliding the fingers of one hand into the cleft between Blake’s buttocks. 

_This isn’t better,_ Blake thought angrily to himself, and then with suddenly clarity he realised that Avon was practically naked. With so much exposed skin, it would be easy to inject Avon with the antihistamine if he could reach it on the floor. That was a good justification for all of this. Even if he’d only thought of the justification after he’d spent ten minutes kissing Avon senseless. 

“I’m almost certainly in love with you,” Avon told him softly.

Justification for letting Avon get on with it or not, that was taking it too far. “You’re not,” Blake told him, and gasped as Avon pinched him hard on the nipple. 

“Don’t tell me what I think. Remember, Blake: you’re different from the Federation-”

“It’s not the same thing,” Blake protested. “You’re _drugged,_ Avon. This isn’t real-”

“Mm,” Avon said with amusement, and this time his hand wrapped around Blake’s nagging erection and squeezed. “This is, though.”

 _“Fuck,”_ Blake groaned, and thrust his hips forward against Avon’s hand. “Avon-” 

“What a good idea,” Avon said breathlessly from somewhere down near Blake’s throat. “Why don’t we fuck on the floor, Blake?”

“You hate me, you’re drugged, the floor’s cold, and someone might walk in-” Blake protested, but allowed himself to be dragged down to the floor anyway, closer to the abandoned syringe. 

“But aside from that,” Avon said, pushing him backwards, “you have no objections.”

“Those _are_ the main ones,” Blake agreed as Avon climbed onto him. The floor was indeed cold and hard under his back, but the warm weight of Avon sitting just below his groin seemed to matter a lot more. And more importantly, Blake reminded himself, he was now within grabbing distance of the syringe. 

“Mm. Let’s do it, then,” Avon said, rubbing his hands up Blake’s body, like a cat stretching. “While we both still want to.” His smile was bright and reckless and Blake forgot what he was doing for a moment. Then Avon’s eyes flicked towards Blake’s left hand, which was stretched out in the direction of the drug, and Blake leaned up and pulled Avon’s face towards himself with his other hand. To distract him, Blake thought, as he pushed his tongue into Avon’s mouth and felt Avon smile. He pulled Avon down to the floor, pushing his hips up into Avon’s – to distract him. 

It was all an act. It was all going to be over soon, he reminded himself, as Avon’s hands fumbled with the fastenings of his own trousers and pushed them down over his arse. Avon was practically naked now and rutting against Blake’s leg, making little breathy sounds as he pressed kisses around the corners of Blake’s mouth.

Blake’s fingers made contact with the syringe and he pulled it towards himself. Avon’s hands were back for Blake’s trousers and Blake let him undo them, because the syringe was in his hand now. Avon’s fingertips brushed down the skin of his erection and Blake groaned helplessly into his mouth. 

He should never have let it get this bad. Avon would never forgive him, and with good reason. This was, Blake knew, one of the worst things he’d ever done. _And,_ of course, he thought bitterly, hating himself as he fumbled with the wrapper of the syringe with one hand, undoubtedly one of the best. 

He brought the needle down into Avon’s arse before he could change his mind, and depressed the plunger. “Mm,” Avon groaned, his hips canting forward into Blake’s, and then the groan became a breathless laugh. “Do that again.” He pressed another kiss into the crook of Blake’s neck and his hand closed around Blake’s erection. “It seems I like pain when it’s from you.”

“Er.... Avon,” Blake began, but Avon had kissed up his jaw by now and had reached the edge of his lips. He bit down again, pressed his lips against Blake’s and, when they opened, licked the inside of Blake’s mouth. His hips continued to move in a relentless, desperate rhythm against Blake’s thigh. Blake smacked him on the arm, and when that didn’t distract Avon, smacked him again.

 _“What?”_ Avon said, looking up irritably. 

Wordlessly Blake held up the spent syringe. Avon’s eyes widened. “Ah,” he said. 

“It... works immediately,” Blake told him. 

“Yes,” Avon said. “I know that. I just hadn’t realised-” 

He paused, and then slid off Blake onto the floor. 

Blake himself was making an effort to get his breathing under control as his brain struggled to process what had just happened. Avon had still been kissing him after he had been ‘cured’. Avon liked pain when it was from him. What the hell did that mean? Had Avon just been caught up in the moment? Possibly. Yes, very possibly. Avon had been holding himself back for almost an hour in an effort to maintain his dignity. That must have made it worse for him than it had been for any of the others. But still- 

Still.

The loss of Avon’s weight and heat on his lap made Blake realise that he was cold and uncomfortable on the floor. He shifted awkwardly, but did not get up because Avon wasn’t.

“Well,” Avon said stiffly, drawing his knees up towards himself. “Now, you know.”

Blake regarded him carefully. “That you’re- ?” he began.

“-in love with you,” Avon said, as Blake himself said, 

“-less able to control yourself than Jenna.” 

Avon grimaced. 

“Ah,” Blake said, propping himself up on an elbow. He feeling warmth spread through him.

“And _apparently_... less able to control myself than _Jenna,_ ” Avon said. He rested his head on his knees and then looked up sharply as Blake started laughing. 

“I’m glad you find this amusing,” he said sourly.

“Only,” Blake said, still laughing, “because we’re both such idiots.” 

Avon looked unimpressed by this analysis, and pushed a hand against the floor as though to get up. 

“ _A_ von,” Blake said, stressing the first syllable with affectionate annoyance. “Sit down. Please.” Avon glowered at him, but sank back down as Blake gestured to the floor. “I’m sorry - that wasn’t very generous of me, under the circumstances.” The giddy laughter kept threatening to twitch his lips into a smile, but it was clear that wasn’t going to be taken well. What was needed was conviction - to make Avon believe what was demonstrably the truth.

“Thank you,” Blake said simply, “for telling me you love me. However and whyever you did it. Allow me to do you the courtesy of telling you that I feel quite similarly about you. I would have said something earlier if I hadn’t been so convinced you hated me and everything I stand for. Now, I know differently.”

“If you believe what I said,” Avon said, with a flash of teeth, “under the influence.”

“Shouldn’t I?” Blake asked. Avon chose not to answer that, which Blake took as a very good sign. Avon could have easily batted that one away with a snide retort, but for now he was choosing not to. His face was emotionless, which probably meant he was thinking things through. “Do you believe what _I_ said?” Blake asked, to help him to a conclusion. 

Avon’s eyes narrowed and Blake added gently, “I didn’t end up in a sweaty, naked heap with any of the others.”

“Despite your protestations about wanting me in my right mind,” Avon said.

“Not my finest hour,” Blake agreed. A smile began spreading across Avon’s face, and Blake grinned, delighted, in response. 

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Avon said, smiling broadly by this time. 

The kiss he pressed to Blake’s lips this time was gentle. Blake cradled the back of Avon’s head in the hand he wasn’t using to support himself, relief and desire flooding through him like adrenalin as Avon clambered back into his lap. His cock had softened during the awkward conversation, but Avon’s tongue in his mouth seemed to be rapidly reviving his interest. Avon rocked forwards, his own erection pressing back, and began moving his weight onto Blake’s shoulders to push him down to the cold, hard, uncomfortable floor again. 

“Mm, actually,” Blake said, staying Avon’s progress with a hand against his chest, “if I don’t have to worry that you’re going to come to your senses any minute, can we move somewhere else? Somewhere with a bed, perhaps.”

“My cabin?” Avon suggested. 

“You mean you don’t sleep hanging from the rafters?”

Avon’s face twisted as though he was biting back a grin. “ _Not_ while I have company,” he said with dignity. 

He stood. Blake put a hand on the floor to push himself to his feet and realised that Avon was offering him a hand. He found it unexpectedly more touching than any of the kisses or the declarations and so, even though he didn’t need the help, he accepted. 

His trousers were still around his ankles, and Jenna had taken his shirt so Blake was as dressed as he was going to be very quickly. He’d thought Avon might want to get fully dressed, but fortunately he seemed content to pull on his jacket and shove his polo neck into an inside pocket. That was good because, although Blake had suggested the change of location, now it was happening the wait until he could touch Avon properly again seemed indeterminable, though it was in fact only the time it would take them to walk thirty-six metres.

Resisting the urge to kiss Avon again, because it would be counterproductive, he pressed the door release button – and almost walked out into Gan. 

“Ah, Blake,” Gan said. “There you are. Have you got a minute?”

“Later,” Blake said hurriedly, and then he remembered that this was very similar to what he’d tried to say to Gan last time and stopped. “I’m sorry. I always seem to be telling you we’ll talk later,” he said, suddenly awkward. “But this is very important-”

“That’s fine,” Gan said bracingly. “I just wanted to say that I don’t think I’m actually gay, but if I were, you’d be first in line.”

Blake considered a variety of responses and discarded most of them. “...Thank you,” he said carefully.

“And I thought you handed the, ah, awkward situation earlier in a very gentlemanlike fashion,” Gan continued. “Jenna says the same.”

“Thank you,” Blake said again, genuinely pleased this time. “I really appreciate that, Gan. And we should – talk later, that is.”

“I’d like that,” Gan said, and Blake smiled and let Avon out into the corridor after him. 

“Blake says you’re a great kisser,” Avon said wickedly to Gan. 

“Ignore him,” Blake said, shoving Avon further down the corridor. “Although you are.” 

Gan looked briefly confused, as though he had no idea how to respond to this. Then he frowned and shouted, “ _Vila,_ put some clothes on!” in the direction of Avon’s cabin. 

Blake turned on his heel instinctively and then wished he hadn’t. “Agreed,” he said, averting his eyes with a sigh as Vila turned the corner. Vila was striding confidently along, like a man on a healthy walking holiday, and he was still completely naked.

“So, that was it,” Avon said, with amusement. “I had wondered.”

“Afternoon all,” Vila said. He beat a friendly tune on Blake’s equally naked back with his palms as he passed, but fortunately didn’t stop for a grope. “When you see Cally, tell her I can’t hear her.” And then he was gone.

“I’ll get him,” Gan said and struck off after Vila. 

Blake tried to exchange an awkward glance with Avon, but Avon seemed to think what he was witnessing was absolutely hilarious, and his grin was infectious. 

From somewhere down the other end of the corridor, Cally’s voice shouted, “Jenna brought us two dressing gowns, Vila!” and this seemed to break the fragile hold Avon had on his hysteria. He began laughing silently against the wall. Blake dragged him back upright, which Avon took as an invitation to lean in and kiss him. Counterproductive or not, Blake slid an arm in through the open front of Avon’s jacket and around his waist, and let Avon’s weight carry them back against the wall. 

Making out in the corridor was not actually much better than having sex in the medibay, though, and after pressing a few more kisses to Avon’s throat, still shuddering with laughter, Blake pulled them both back upright again.

“Come on-” 

A moment later, Cally herself appeared, clad in a long white dressing gown that swirled around her as she walked. There was another dressing gown draped over her arm. “Have you seen Vila?” she asked as she saw them.

“Gan’s gone after him,” Blake explained.

“Oh good,” Cally said. “Blake-” She looked slightly embarrassed and Blake surmised that it was actually embarrassment about how similarly she had been attired a few hours ago, rather than any embarrassment over seeing Vila without any clothes on. “I’m sorry about what happened earlier.”

“Think nothing of it,” Blake said warmly, steering Avon away down the corridor before he could ask what it was that had happened and embarrass Cally further.

“But I _do_ think we should talk about your plans for Earth,” Cally said firmly. “I’m worried that you may be rushing-”

“Some other time, Cally,” Blake said, having reached Avon’s door. “I promise.” 

Avon pressed the door button. The door slid open, Blake smiled reassuringly at Cally, who nodded, and Blake let himself be tugged into the room by two of Avon’s fingers hooked into the waistband of his trousers. As the door slid shut behind him, Blake drew Avon into another kiss. 

After a moment or two, Avon put a hand to his chest and pushed him gently back. He wandered over to his desk, shucking his jacket as he did so and abandoning it over the shield plans. Then, as he bent his leg to pull of a boot, he nodded towards the door. “So, what was that about?”

Blake laughed, feeling guilty and embarrassed but seeing the humour in it. “Cally chose to seduce me by offering to discuss rebellion and have sex at the same time,” he explained.

“A highly logical strategy,” Avon said, and grinned as Blake rolled his eyes at the predictability of that response. “Did it work?” he asked, pulling off his trousers and underwear.

“Which of you am I here with?” 

“Well, me, obviously,” Avon said, leaning back against his desk in a way that seemed to invite Blake to come over to him and prove it. “I’d have put my foot down if you wanted to sleep with Cally in my cabin.”

“I don’t,” Blake told him, pretending to take this conversation seriously. He crossed to Avon, close enough that he could almost feel the warmth of Avon’s skin against his own. “I want to sleep with _you_ in your cabin. Is that all right?”

“Now that,” Avon said, smiling as Blake ran a hand up his side, over and around a nipple, and up over his shoulder and up his neck, “I don’t object to.” 

He hummed contentedly into Blake’s mouth as Blake kissed him, his cock stirring against Blake’s thigh. After the urgent and awkwardly immoral kissing in the medilab, this one was surprisingly gentle, almost lazy. They’d last stood together on this spot an hour earlier. It had then seemed impossible that he would ever be able to lay so much as a finger on Avon, except possibly to pull him out of the way of gunfire. 

Now Avon seemed to be trying to press himself into Blake, as though they couldn’t possibly touch enough. He leant his head back again, the same gesture as in the medilab, and, oddly relieved to know that it had been a real desire, Blake licked his throat up to his jaw. Avon’s breath shuddered beneath his tongue.

“We can talk about the rebellion afterwards,” he said into Blake’s hair.

Blake laughed and kissed him again. “You say the nicest things,” he said with faux seriousness.

“Strangely enough, nobody’s ever said that to me before,” Avon told him.

“Really? I wonder why not,” Blake said, and Avon grinned and shoved him backwards towards the bed. 

“I really couldn’t say,” he said, pulling open the top drawer and removing the bottle of lubricant Blake had seen earlier. As Blake took the hint and sat on the bed, Avon squeezed some of the lubricant onto his hands and warmed it between his fingers. The smell of mint filled the room as Avon’s fingers worked. “I have such nice manners.” 

He frowned as Blake started laughing, leaning backwards on the bed for support. “It wasn’t that funny, Blake.”

“No, no,” Blake said, between chuckles, “it’s just- I’ve remembered that you keep a picture of me in your desk drawer.”

Rather than looking embarrassed, Avon grinned, his teeth flashing white. “I also keep a large number of sex toys in there. Did you want to be reminded of those, rather forcefully, up your anal passage?”

Blake’s eyes widened and he felt more blood rushing to his cock. Mostly he wanted Avon, however and wherever – even the floor of the medilab would have been acceptable – but the sound of Avon describing sex and so intensely was exceptionally erotic. “Well, I-”

Avon’s smile grew wider as he took a seat on the bed. “Perhaps later,” he said, abandoning the bottle of lubricant by Blake’s side. “Right now, I think both of us would appreciate the real thing.” 

“You may be right,” Blake agreed, with an attempt of nonchalance, leaning up because Avon seemed to be leaning down. His cock twitched towards Avon and, at the moment their lips touched, Avon’s hand closed around it. He bit Blake’s bottom lip as Blake’s mouth opened in a groan, and then laughing pressed kisses down over his chin. 

“I could get very used to that sound,” he confided, swinging a leg over Blake’s chest, his arm stretched behind him to continue its work. 

“I doubt I’ll _ever_ get used to this,” Blake said honestly as Avon abandoned his cock for a moment to retrieve the lubricant. He tried not to look too disappoint at the loss of the pressure and Avon grinned at him. He lifted one of Blake’s hands and squeezed lubricant into it. Let the hand drop, and took up the other one and repeated the motion. Blake rolled the liquid between his fingers, letting Avon kiss and stroke him again as it warmed. 

Avon’s cock was pressed against his stomach, and Avon was moving his hips in little jabbing motions, his breath coming in shallow gasps. It was wonderful, and Blake didn’t even realise he hadn’t acted on Avon’s implied instructions until Avon broke away and took hold of Blake’s left hand with his. 

“Blake, It’s all right,” he said firmly, moving Blake’s hand closer to his cock. “I’m not drugged, and I do want it. More accurately, I want _you-_ ” His eyes flickered shut, and he seemed to purr as Blake gave his erection a long, slick tug. “Mmmmm. That’s it.” His hand clenched around Blake’s cock and Blake heard himself give an answering groan as warmth flared through him.

If Avon had asked him a few minutes earlier, Blake would have denied that he had any reservations about touching him. But once his fingers had closed around Avon’s cock, he’d known Avon was right and he’d been avoiding that final step. Blake had spent too much of the day – too much of the last year, in fact – trying desperately not to touch Avon inappropriately for the aversion not to have become ingrained. Pointlessly, it now seemed, since Avon was working himself in Blake’s grip with leisurely thrusts of his hips and making obscene sounds that suggested he was enjoying it. If only they had done this earlier - if he had been able to do this earlier. But Blake had broken through far stronger conditioning before, with less reward, with less help. Already his mind was skipping forward to the other inappropriate places he could touch Avon next. 

“You seem to have given me two handfuls of lubricant,” he said as mildly as he could with Avon’s cock in his hand and Avon’s hand jerking his cock. “I wonder what could that be for.”

“Take an inspired guess,” Avon growled, making it very obvious what he was after by leaning forward onto one of his elbows and giving Blake access to his arse.

Feeling contrary and teasing, Blake slid his fingers under and around Avon’s balls and Avon gasped, “Not bad, but _not_ what I had in mind.”

“Ah,” Blake said, removing the hand and repositioning his arm around Avon’s hip. “Well, how’s this?” He pushed one, slick finger slowly into Avon’s arse, stroked him from the inside, and then pulled out and pushed back in again. 

“ _Oh,_ yes,” Avon purred, “that’s it.” He pressed backwards onto the finger, rather than forwards into Blake’s other hand. Then he seemed to realise he wanted to press into that other hand too and frowned and shunted his hips back the other way, and then back again. The confusion and determination on his face was adorable and erotic at the same time, much as his irritation at being covered in mud had been. 

“More,” Avon groaned, as Blake slid another finger in beside the first. He drew them back and pressed up into Avon. The angle was awkward, but Avon’s expression and the soft wetness inside him made the slight discomfort in Blake’s wrist fairly insignificant. “ _That’s it_ ,” Avon insisted. “More. Open me up.”

Blake grinned up at him. “Were you hoping to fuck yourself on me?”

“Hoping?” Avon said, with a breathless laugh. “I don’t think you could stop me, do you?” He let go of Blake’s cock and tried to pull Blake’s fingers out from his arse with his hand. 

“You’re still too tight,” Blake told him firmly. He let Avon draw his hand back slightly and then thrust it back in, deeper than before. A whine of frustration and arousal escaped through Avon’s clenched jaw, and his hand pressed down harder on Blake’s wrist to get him to retreat. 

“This _foreplay,_ ” he explained heavily, “has gone on,” with a wrench and a gasp he pulled Blake’s hand out of himself, “for nearly an hour.” He breathed more normally again for a moment, and then began moving backwards down Blake’s body. “Even without counting the last year. I want you, you want me, and I am going to _have_ you.” 

“Fine,” Blake said, “have it your own way.” 

He let go of Avon’s cock, so Avon could focus on what he was doing. Even so, there was a brief moment of delicious sliding contact across the tip of his own cock as Avon tried to line the two of them up and failed. Then he murmured something indistinguishable and sank down, taking the first inch of Blake into himself. Blake instinctively thrust up into that tight grip, but Avon’s wince told him that one of them had been right about whether Avon was ready or not and it hadn’t been Avon. Blake tensed and tried to stop, but Avon snapped, “Keep _going._ ” So Blake gave into it, and thrust into him again, feeling the tight clench of Avon gripping more and more of him.

Avon breathed in, rose and fell again, deeper this time, more of Blake inside him. He began to stroke his own cock to help him relax. 

“ _I’ll_ do that,” Blake said, _god, Avon was tight,_ “if you don’t mind.” He pushed Avon’s hand away and closed his own fist around Avon’s cock as Avon rose again on his knees, and sank further onto Blake’s cock. He did it again and this time, as he came down, Blake dug the nails of his other hand into Avon’s arse. 

“Oh yes. Do that,” Avon said, laughingly breathlessly and then breaking off as Blake thrust up into him, “ again.”

He was very close, and had been for some time. It took only three or four more thrusts before he came over Blake’s stomach and collapsed onto his hands. 

His muscles trembling, Blake pushed himself into a seated position and wrapped Avon in his arms. Boneless and wrung out, Avon allowed himself to be dragged down to the bed, where Blake rolled him onto his back. He briefly considered the ethics of fucking Avon while he was exhausted until Avon raked a hand down his chest and hissed, “ _Do it_ , Blake. I want you to come in me, I need you to.”

“You know,” Blake told him, “you say… the _nicest_ things.” Avon laughed weakly and vaguely hysterically underneath him, as though the comment had been much funnier. He managed to wrap his legs around Blake’s waist as Blake pulled back, clenching his fingers in the headboard. Then Blake tightened his grip around Avon’s shoulders, and began to pound into him. 

Avon was looser now and extremely sensitive, judging by the noises he was making. Lots of them sounded like wordless declarations of undying love, and, judging that Avon would be embarrassed about these later, Blake muffled them slightly with his mouth and then his tongue down Avon’s throat. But he could still feel them shuddering pleasantly through Avon’s body as he gasped his way through his own orgasm and collapsed on top of Avon.

Avon stroked his back, surprisingly tenderly and thoroughly, until Blake felt he had his breath back and could pull out of him. He rolled over towards Avon’s wall onto his back, and Avon rolled over with him so that he was lying on Blake rather than the other way round. 

“It’s Central Control, isn’t it?” he said, looking up at Blake from the crook of Blake’s shoulder. 

“Hm?” Blake said intelligently. 

“What Cally was talking about out in the corridor. You’re planning to attack Central Control soon. That is you are planning for _us_ to attack Central Control.”

“In a week or so, yes,” Blake said. “Ideally once we’ve found a base to move from.” He looked blearily down at Avon. “Sorry, you really want to talk about this _now?”_

“That’s right,” Avon said. “The issue seems relatively pressing.” He frowned and sat up. “I... did say that we would.”

“I assumed you were joking.”

“There’s a certain absurdity to the idea of six of us attacking the most highly defended base in the galaxy, I agree, but no, in this case I wasn’t joking. Do you have a plan?”

“Yes,” Blake said. He leant up on an elbow to better look at Avon. “I’ve made contact with a resistance leader on Earth. She and her men will engineer a distraction around the perimeter of the Forbidden Zone, while we break in. Once inside, we disable the computer system. Permanently. Or rather, you do.” 

“Not much of a plan, then,” Avon said. “And you’ve got nothing at all if Vila and I decide we don’t want to go along with it.”

“Yes, that’s true,” Blake said levelly, feeling the pit of his stomach drop. “Do you think it’s likely?”

“Well, I can’t speak for Vila,” Avon said, and left a pause long enough that Blake’s fingers clenched in the bedcovers, “but since I’ve always gone along with your hair-brained schemes in the past, and since I have discovered you do appreciate that sort of thing after all-” Blake grinned and sat up, long enough only to pull Avon back down to the bed with him. “No,” Avon said, smiling against his lips. “I don’t find it very likely. I _would_ ," he said, eventually after more kisses had been exchanged, "like to know more about the technology involved before we arrive, though. What do we know about the Central computer?”

“Not much,” Blake admitted. He ran a hand through his hair. “Orac can’t get access to it. I do know everything there is to know about the defences surrounding the complex and I’m confident that Vila and I can take them out.”

“But nothing about the computer itself?” Avon said. “That’s interesting. I can believe it was primarily constructed before Ensor’s time, but I’m surprised they haven’t replaced any parts with tarriel cells in the past forty or fifty years.”

“Yes, I thought that was odd, too,” Blake said. “Perhaps budgets were cut to allow for Servalan’s wardrobe.” 

“Be serious,” Avon said, fingers tapping against Blake’s chest. 

“Sorry,” Blake said seriously. He stilled Avon’s hand with his own. “So, you think it’s something we should worry about, do you?”

“I don’t know,” Avon said. “There is the possibility, loathe though I am to admit it, that if the computer is too ancient to support tarriel cells that I will not be able to hack into it successfully.”

“We could investigate the ship board manifests,” Blake said, “see what replacement parts were brought in. And thereby deduce what sort of computer system we- I beg your pardon,” he said as Avon raised an eyebrow, “ _you_ might be likely to face. And Orac has found details of the technicians assigned to the complex, stored on another computer. There didn’t seem to be much point tracking them down when I thought you were going to be able to get into the computer without their help, but if you do need them – I know where to look.”

“Presumably that will take more than a week.”

“Fine,” Blake said with good-humoured resignation. “I’ll delay the invasion plan. Happy?”

“Moderately,” Avon said. “I _could_ be happier...” He took hold of Blake’s hand and moved it down to his cock, closed Blake’s fingers around it, and started moving Blake’s hand for him. 

Blake chuckled against his skin. “You are _insatiable,_ ” he said, meaning it as a compliment, as Avon began to squirm and murmur contentedly to himself. 

“Well,” Avon said luxuriously, “now I know you’re interested, it would be a pity to waste you.”

“Now I know what you’re like and that you don’t hate me, I’m actually astonished you managed to resist the affects of the pollen earlier,” Blake told him, without loosening his grip. 

“Actually,” Avon said, staying Blake’s hand away for the moment, “it wasn’t difficult at all.” He met Blake’s eyes seriously. “The others weren’t used to it, that’s why it overwhelmed them. But, as you’ve undoubtedly realised, I’ve spent most of my time aboard this ship fighting the desire to fuck your brains out.”

“You could have said,” Blake pointed out reproachfully. 

“You could have asked,” Avon retorted. “Or made a similar confession yourself. Since I gather from our earlier activities that that particular desire is not alien to you either.”

“No,” Blake said, beginning to stroke Avon’s cock again. He rubbed a circle around its head, and enjoyed the way Avon’s eyes flickered shut. “No, it is not.”

“The pollen must have got to me while I was in the corridor,” Avon continued, his voice trembling slightly now. “I remember staggering against the wall as the thought of you sucking me off almost overwhelmed me. But I thought,” he said, grinning as Blake moved down his body obligingly, “that it must just be a Tuesday. I always desire you more on Tuesdays. I don’t know why that should be.”

“How interesting,” Blake said, bending down to lick the cock in front of his face. It tasted like fresh mint, and he licked it again until he could taste Avon underneath and Avon himself was gasping wordlessly. Tempting though it was to take the head of Avon’s cock into his mouth now, Blake paused and pulled back. Avon propped himself up on his elbows to glare and Blake grinned and darted his tongue out to lick Avon while he could see it. Avon’s head fell back again. 

_“Tease,”_ he growled. 

“Go on,” Blake told him. “What happened after the corridor?”

“Well, then,” Avon said, his voice staggering slightly as Blake’s lips closed around him, “I saw you in my room... looking agitated... in the white shirt...”

“Mm,” Blake said, drawing away. “Do you like it?”

“ _Oh_ yes,” Avon said. 

“I’ll make sure to get it back from Jenna then,” Blake told him. “What else do you like?”

Avon gasped, as Blake’s tongue swirled around him. “Your moral outrage... when you thought I might be drugged... was also... _oh yes_ … ah, _very_ attractive. But all of that,” he said, breathing in deeply, “I could resist. But, _ah, fuck, yes, that’s good, Blake_ – the damn pollen got me when I touched you. I couldn’t–” his fingers clenched in the curls of Blake’s hair, “ _help_ myself-” His hips pushed upwards into Blake’s mouth, and Blake drew away with a smile.

“You are _sure_ you’re not still affected?” he asked. 

It was a joke, but Avon must have seen the serious question behind it because he reached out for Blake’s face and stroked a thumb across his cheek.

“No,” he said. “It’s just Tuesday.”

“It’s Friday today,” Blake told him. 

“Don’t tell me what to think,” Avon retorted. 

“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it,” Blake told him, and bent down to finish sucking him off.

**Author's Note:**

> Short little sequel here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11914728/chapters/26924142


End file.
